


to know about

by gravitycentered



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, Baker Harry, Fluff, Kid Fic, Lawyer Harry, M/M, Past Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Single Parent Louis, YouTuber Louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitycentered/pseuds/gravitycentered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's phone pings with a new email notification, and after seeing the message is from YouTube, he deadpans, “I think I’ve fallen in love with a YouTuber, as well.” </p><p>All too accustomed to Harry’s dry humor, Zayn barely reacts. “Have you?” </p><p>“I have,” Harry sighs. “A <i>dad</i>, to boot."</p><p>-</p><p>Feeling broody, Harry becomes a fan of a young, single father who posts videos about his little family's life on YouTube. It only gets worse when this dad walks into the bakery where Harry works on the weekends to buy a cake for his daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to know about

**Author's Note:**

> so... so. so. 
> 
> this is the first WIP i'm posting as it's being written since i first started writing fic as a lil teenager. i LOVE this fic, so i do plan to finish it, but i'm making No Promises when it comes to a timeline. i'm going to do my best though! 
> 
> parts will be roughly 10k words each, and i'm expecting this to last about 3-4 parts. i don't see it going much beyond that. i've just got several other ideas i'm working on, and i want to get this one out there as soon as possible :) 
> 
> also i should potentially mention that louis is only a youtuber in the loosest sense of the word atm... but i mean, he posts videos to youtube. that counts. this fic just doesn't feature louis with 1mil+ followers (or anywhere close).
> 
> thanks to jasmine and namra for reading and providing a much needed ego boost, and steph for the wonderful short-notice beta read!!

“This is a lovely color, Mumma,” Lux says, sweeping a bright blue eyeshadow over Lou’s cheeks in place of blush, using her tiny fingers instead of the forgotten brush gripped in her other hand. 

“Oh, it is lovely,” Lou agrees with an amused glance at the camera. “Brings out me cheekbones, doesn’t it?” 

Harry smiles wide at his screen and pulls his phone out of his pocket, tapping over to Snapchat. He lets a short video run, a clip of Lux smearing bright orange lipstick all around Lou’s mouth, far beyond her lips, and mutters quietly in narration, “Proper talented.” After adding it to his story, he makes sure to send the clip to Lou as well. This is the third week in a row she’s sent him insistent snaps and texts reminding him to watch their videos, and he wants to make sure she knows he’s seen this one. It’s cheerfully titled _LUX DOES MY MAKEUP !_ and is arguably the most important out of the ones he’s missed; Lou hopefully won’t notice him not commenting on her monthly “Beauty Hits and Misses” series. 

All in all, it takes Lux 17 minutes to perfect Lou’s look on the makeup video. By the end, she’s got glittery golden eyebrows drawn on in eyeliner, mascara streaks on her cheeks and a pink “contour” drawn in blush that resembles a beard more than anything. Harry takes a picture of the final product viewed in fullscreen to save on his phone and minimizes back to the website view, scanning the sidebar for anything else of theirs he might’ve missed. 

Sometimes when Harry goes on Youtube, he ends up aimlessly clicking for hours. He typically only gets on to watch Lou and Lux’s videos, or sometimes things friends have sent him or new music videos from his favorite artists, but it’s not a place he usually spends much time. Every once in a while, though, he’ll spot a video that snags his attention and reels him in, often some other Youtuber with their children at first, thanks to the recommended videos on the sidebar, and then progressively stranger ones, until he’s squinting at his screen at half past 1 in the morning, watching a compilation of ghost encounters caught on American gas station security feeds. 

This time, the video that catches his eye is one just under Lou’s beauty blender tutorial in the sidebar. It’s titled _HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!_ with a still of a man holding a very small infant in a silly looking fabric baby carrier, smiling at something out of frame. This still isn’t like the polished, professional ones he’s gotten used to seeing, just one of the automatically generated stills from the video itself, and Harry finds himself wondering how a baby so small could have already been turning a year old. 

As soon as he’s clicked the video, he realizes the baby isn’t the one with a birthday. The lad with the baby and a little girl both happily chirp, “Hello!” at the same time, drawing out the _ooo_ until the girl breaks first and giggles. Harry’s not fantastic at placing ages on anyone, let alone children, but he’d guess she’s around three or four from the sweet roundness in her cheeks. The man who Harry assumes is her father turns to face her and asks, “What’s happening this week?” 

There’s a tiny hiccup from the hidden lump of the other baby attached to the dad’s chest before the girl finally speaks again, grin growing so wide on her face that Harry finds himself matching it. She erupts with a yell loud enough that the man startles—though the baby seems unbothered—“It’s my BIRTHDAY!” 

“It’s Genevieve’s birthday!” the man yells in response, shaking one fist in the air triumphantly while he cups the back of the baby’s head with his other hand. “I can’t believe she’s already _twenty five_ ,” he tells the camera. Genevieve interrupts him with a pat to his arm and whispers something that sounds like either _fourteen_ or _forty_ , Harry can’t be sure. He feels the endearment that follows as a physical reaction regardless. 

“Forgive me, she’s forty,” her dad corrects himself, after bending in close to let her repeat it in his ear as a whisper. His voice is high and lilting, accent Northern, “Either way, it’s a very important birthday and she’s got an equally important week.” 

“I do,” Genevieve agrees, squirming restlessly in her seat. It looks like they’re at a kitchen table, maybe, and she’s so short that the back of the chair shows over her head and her dad has to hunch himself over to remain fully in frame. She reminds him of Lux a bit, though she’s likely younger, with long and wavy dark blonde hair that’s frizzing out in a messy little halo. 

“Tell everyone what you’re doing, then,” her dad says, turning back to face her instead of the camera. With his body tilting, Harry gets a peek into the baby carrier and can see the other child, sleeping soundly with their tiny face smushed against his chest. 

“Going to Mummy’s for all the week,” Genevieve says, popping up her index finger on one hand to count things off. “See Bruce, see my Grammas, see aunties,” she lists, putting all five fingers out at once instead of ticking them off individually. After that, she trails off in a low, “Ummmm…” and looks to her dad, shrugging. 

“You got the important bits,” he assures her, smoothing away some of her flyaway hairs. She faceplants into his chest then and he laughs, letting her nuzzle into him and the baby’s side while he expands on her plans. “So, I’m keeping Jack this week while Gen stays with their mum… She’s still got uni but El’s mum is gonna be there to watch her in the day, and she is absolutely buzzing about that.” Genevieve makes a happy humming sound into her dad’s chest at that, like a buzzing bee, and Harry smiles at the face he makes in return, scrunching up his nose like he’s ticklish. “She’s coming back with me on Thursday and we’re gonna get her a _massive_ cake to eat at her other Gramma’s house, yeah?” 

“Yes!” Genevieve yells into his chest. This time the baby—Jack?—does stir, whining unhappily for a moment until his dad pats his bum, frowning down at his daughter. 

“Alright, calm down,” he insists. “Yeah, though, that’s about all I’ve got to update you lot on today. We’ve just been lazing about, watching a bit of CBeebies, really. Jack’s been brilliant as usual, sleeping like… Well, like a baby, I suppose. I’ve been rubbish about getting videos done lately, I know, so I figured I’d give a little update, but I’m gonna film loads next weekend when we go see my mum so there’ll be plenty to watch then. But… I reckon that’s it. Check back next week sometime, I’m gonna put up a video of this little marshmallow up in a couple days,” he says, rubbing his son’s back. “You wanna say bye, Gen?” 

“Bye,” Genevieve says, still speaking into his chest. Slowly, she turns her head toward the camera, looking much more shy than when the video started, giving the lens a little smile. She bursts into action after that, flying out of frame for a long second while her dad stifles a laugh before running back over, trying to scramble into his lap without much regard for upsetting the baby. 

“Jesus, okay,” he laughs, slipping one arm around her waist to hold her at bay. “Alright, bye, bye bye bye,” he says quickly, shutting the video off on a hilariously unflattering angle. 

Harry only considers it for a second before clicking the guy’s username, louist91, to see what other videos he’s posted. Quickly, he realizes he’s already watched the most recent one. None of them have remarkable numbers of views, probably because he’s filling a very niche market - a single dad vlogger without many professional editing skills, from the looks of it. 

The farther back Harry scrolls in his uploaded videos, the more often he sees a woman with dark, wavy hair occupying the stills alongside the dad, who he’s assuming is the mum. Just as he’s about to click on a video with both of them in the still, titled _Big Sister?_ , Harry gets a FaceTime request from Lou. He already knows it’s going to be Lux, always keen to give him a ring when she knows he’s watched her videos. Quickly, Harry saves the video to his ‘watch later’ list and exits out of Youtube to bring up FaceTime on his laptop, glad for a chance to interact with a cute child in his own life after watching someone else’s.

-

In the end, Harry finds his way back to louist91’s page. He’s let Lou’s videos pile up again, burying himself in his coursework for days at a time in order to fully free up his weekends, but after he’s completed his godfatherly duties and watched every clip featuring Lux, he lets himself navigate to his list of saved videos. 

_Big Sister?_ starts much like the first video of his that Harry saw, except instead of little Genevieve beside her dad it’s a woman who’s practically identical to her, just with wider eyes, perhaps a rounder nose. They’re both grinning at the camera as soon as the video begins, and the dad speaks first, “Alright, I hope you’ve all watched the last video or else you’ll be getting a surprise in this one as well…” 

“In case you haven’t, though— I’m pregnant! Again,” the mum laughs. Her voice is sweet and high, impossibly posh compared to the dad’s. “We’re going to see Louis’ mum today and surprise her with the news. Mine already knows—”

“Which completely ruins the fun, by the way,” the dad, Louis—which, admittedly, Harry could’ve assumed from the name of his channel—interrupts, which earns him a shove. 

“Stop it,” she laughs again, reaching down and rummaging in something at her feet for a moment. She pops back into frame with what looks like a piece of clothing and says, “We bought this today to sort of trick her into putting it on Evie, so she’ll hear it from the future big sister instead of us.” 

“And she’s gonna be over the moon,” Louis says dreamily, taking the fabric from the mum’s hands to unfold it and show off the front, revealing the words _I’m a Big Sister!_ printed along the front of a tiny top. “Isn’t that cute?” 

The rest of the video _is_ cute. Harry learns (or re-learns, he can’t be sure) that mum’s name is Eleanor, and they hide the camera in a bookshelf to surprise Louis’ mum. Genevieve is only a tiny thing, mostly babbling only half-intelligible words, and they show themselves purposely spilling juice on Genevieve’s blouse for an excuse to ask Louis’ mum to change her outfit. She lets out a hilarious screech after actually reading what the replacement shirt says, startling Genevieve into a crying fit that Louis has to calm her from while his mum hugs Eleanor tight and sways her around the room. 

It’s charming enough that Harry finds himself watching another video of Louis’. And then another… and a couple more, after that. He sees documented proof of Genevieve’s first naughty word (which was “shit”), a short clip of Jack’s first day home from hospital, a more serious and reluctant announcement that he and Eleanor were officially splitting up, an explanation of how their shared custody works, and—perhaps Harry’s favorite—a recent, typical day-in-the-life video, showing his routine with both kids. 

After a handful of videos he feels like he knows them in a sort of distant way, like a friend you knew in sixth form who you keep up with through social media now. It’s nice to have found a channel about kids that he can relate to, as well, more than the makeup artist vlogger mums he’s considered subscribing to. He subscribes to Louis’ with little hesitation, though, especially hoping for more videos on raising the kids. 

-

Thursday mornings at the bakery are Harry’s second favorite timeslot to work, just behind Tuesday afternoons. It’s typically quite dead, only a few customers coming in every hour for a pastry or a coffee, and he has ample time to catch up on his reading; criminal law’s become especially interesting as of late, but also especially complex. Barbara leaves him at the register most weekdays, only pulling him into the back to bake on the weekends when traffic’s a bit heavier, so Harry spends every free moment of his shift with his casebook cradled in one arm, three distinctly colored highlighters in his mouth to distinguish between facts, statutes and holdings. 

He’s developed a smooth flow at this point, letting the highlighters drop out of his mouth whenever he hears the doorbell chime, into the center of his book which he closes and sets on the counter to tend to the customers. Today, he’s just let all three fall into his book in an almost Pavlovian fashion, ready to snap the book shut when he turns to see louist91—Louis—pulling his daughter into the shop. Surprised, he fumbles and sends the 1,200 page tome into the floor, losing his page while simultaneously slinging his highlighters in all directions, one bouncing over the counter to land at Louis’ feet. 

“Whoops,” Genevieve says mildly, letting go of her dad’s hand to grab the blue highlighter. She stretches a bit to reach the high countertop, pushing the pen far back from the edge. 

“Thank you very much,” Harry says, charmed despite his embarrassment. “Sorry about that.” Quickly, he hefts his casebook back up onto the counter and leaves the other highlighters on the floor, resolving to grab them after the shop’s empty again. “How are you two doing today, then? What can I get for you?” 

Louis puts a hand on top of Genevieve’s head, looking both amused and still a bit spooked by the sudden noise. It’s then that Harry notices he’s holding a camera in his other hand, and he hopes with a blush that it hadn’t been running when he tossed his coursework across the whole bloody bakery. “You’re alright,” Louis says petting back Genevieve’s hair, “but I want to ask— are you alright with me filming? I’m doing, like, a big video for her birthday.” 

“No, yeah, that’s fine,” Harry says, pushing his hair away from his face. He has the sudden impulse to tell Louis that he’s already seen loads of his videos, but thankfully, his mouth won’t let him form the words. 

“Thanks,” Louis smiles, crouching down then to get on his daughter’s level. He levels the camera at her and says, “Alright, then, what’s happening?” 

“My birthday tomorrow,” Genevieve says matter-of-factly. 

“Right you are,” Louis agrees, “and we’re here…” 

“At the cake shop,” she finishes. “For my cake.” 

“Right again! Go on and tell the man what kind of cake you’d like, yeah?” Louis says, staying crouched down, presumably to get a good angle to film. 

Harry, for his part, grabs the pad of paper and pen he keeps by the register and leans very far over the counter, poised to write, giving her his full attention. “Ready when you are.” 

Genevieve glances longingly at the pastries on display in the case already: big slices of fluffy vanilla cake, impeccably arranged and decorated mini cupcakes, a heaping plate of pain au chocolat. She looks to Louis behind the camera and then cautiously up at Harry, twisting her mouth into a confused line. 

“Come on, love, you planned out exactly what you wanted on the way over,” Louis says gently. 

“Alright,” Genevieve says, a touch impatient. “I would like… two white cakes, and pink frosting in the middle.” 

“Got it,” Harry says, diligently taking down her request. 

“But—I want the top one to be pink too, and the bottom one to be _orange_.” 

“What?” Louis laughs, looking between the two of them. “You just said you wanted white!” 

“White is the flavor, Daddy. I would like colors to be pink and orange.” 

“I can absolutely do pink and orange,” Harry says, smiling indulgently at Louis before noting down which layers should be which color. “What about frosting on the outside, hm? Would you like something special?” 

“Oh, rainbow!” Genevieve exclaims, stepping gingerly over to the display case and staring in at one of the cupcakes, topped with rainbow-colored swirly frosting. 

“Now, you told me you wanted a white cake with pink icing,” Louis says, playfully exasperated, still filming as she longingly presses one hand against the glass display case. 

“I did, and now I want this,” she says simply, looking up at Harry who’s still leaning over the counter. “Is that alright?” 

“Of course it’s alright,” he says, clearing his throat theatrically to read off her order. “Two layers, bottom one orange, top one pink, pink frosting in between and rainbow frosting outside. That sound right?” 

“Maybe… I can get two cakes?” Genevieve asks, looking pleadingly to her dad. 

“I don’t think so, darling. This one’s gonna be quite enough,” he says, standing but keeping the camera trained on his daughter. “You sure that’s what you want? Final chance to change your mind…” 

“No, I want that one very much,” she says resolutely, nodding to herself. “It sounds good.” 

“It’s settled, then,” Louis says, turning off his camera before tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. He smiles at Harry when he steps in closer to the counter, glancing down at the notepad. “That’ll be okay?” 

“It’s fine,” Harry assures him. He stands back up straight then and notices that both Louis and Genevieve seem smaller than they do through a computer screen, compact and slight. He sets the pad down and clears his throat again, compulsively this time, “D’you want any kind of lettering on it? Happy birthday or the like?” 

“Gen?” Louis asks, gently tugging a chunk of her hair. “Want it to say happy birthday?” 

“No. Please do not mess up the rainbow,” Genevieve says politely to Harry. 

Harry places one hand over his heart and holds the other up in innocence, “I would never.” He takes a second then to jot down that there’s no message, and asks Louis, “Are you planning on picking it up tomorrow or later today?” 

“Today, if I can?” Louis asks, just as polite as his daughter. “We’re driving up to Doncaster to see me mum and everyone, headed out this evening, so I was hoping to have it by the afternoon if you’ll be around.” 

“No, definitely,” Harry says quickly. He glances at the clock on the wall behind him and hums, “It really shouldn’t take more than two hours or so, we haven’t got any other custom orders ahead of you. You could come back around noon?” 

“God, that’s perfect,” Louis says, obviously relieved. He breathes out a laugh and rubs a hand over his face, fingertips catching on his stubbled chin. “How much do I owe you, mate?” 

Harry rings him up and smiles once he’s handed back the leftover change, “See you in a couple hours, then.” 

“We’ll let you get back to it,” Louis grins, rapping his knuckles against the wide spine of Harry’s casebook on the counter. He gives him a little wave and taps Genevieve on the shoulder, nodding back to Harry, “Say bye, love.” 

“Bye, thank you!” Genevieve recites, waving much more enthusiastically with the hand not gripping onto Louis’ forearm. 

“You’re very welcome,” Harry tells her, waiting until they leave to slump against the counter. He spots one of his stray highlighters under the display case and lets himself have an incredulous little laugh before taking the order back to Barbara in the kitchen.

-

Harry’s reading again when Louis shows back up with Genevieve, this time with baby Jack strapped to his chest in a carrier as well. Genevieve bolts right up to the counter before Harry can even set his book down, demanding in as polite a way as she can probably manage, “Did you finish my cake?” 

“Gen,” Louis admonishes, hurrying over to stand behind her. He looks to Harry then and smiles, looking a little tired. “Sorry we’re a bit late, had to go pick up this little man from his granddad’s place.” 

“You’re alright,” Harry promises, smiling back. He doesn’t keep eye contact long, instead carefully putting his book down—thankfully, it doesn’t crash into the floor this time. “I _have_ finished your cake, as a matter of fact,” he tells Genevieve, bending over the counter to see her more fully. “Would you like a peek at it before I box it up?” 

“ _Please_ ,” Genevieve says, voice full of longing as she leans her head on the counter, frizzy little hairs spilling across the surface. 

Harry stifles a laugh and glances up at Louis again, pleased to find a similar expression on his face. “I’ll be back in a tick, then,” he says, quickly heading to the back of the bakery. He grabs a box and cuts a long string of pink ribbon to match the inside of Genevieve’s cake, squeezing past Barbara who’s sweeping all the fallen crumbs into the corner to grab the cake itself. He’s careful on the way back out, balancing the cake in as showy a way as he can manage to impress Genevieve, though impressing a four year old can’t be terribly difficult. 

Just as he hoped she would, Genevieve lets out a gentle shriek of happiness when he sets the cake in the center of the unfolded box for her to see. “It’s so nice,” she sighs, peeking over the edge of the counter like she’s ready to devour it right there. 

“Did the icing meself,” Harry brags, turning the cake so she can see the sides from every angle, actually quite proud of how the icing turned out. He used a light hand with the food coloring to make the rainbow icing a pretty pastel, though he has a feeling she’d be just as happy with a bright neon finish. 

“It’s lovely, actually,” Louis says, also admiring the cake. Jack fusses a bit in his carrier, whimpering and flailing out a tiny fist that collides with Louis’ chest. He presses his lips to Jack’s head and murmurs to him, “I know, my darling,” placing a gentle hand on his back. 

“Thank you,” Harry says belatedly in response to the compliment on his icing job. His stomach clenches tight with the desire to reach out and pet Jack’s downy hair, but he knows this is not an appropriate action to take when it comes to a stranger’s baby. Instead he asks, “How old is he?” 

“Just about four months,” Louis says, smiling more softly now. Harry can feel himself go absolutely moony; it’s bad enough watching a five minute video on the internet of someone who loves their kids this much, but seeing it right before his eyes makes him even more broody. He would love a baby. “Got four months and four years now, don’t I?” Louis asks, mostly to Genevieve. “Four must be my lucky number.” 

“Have four babies, then,” Genevieve says, like it’s a challenge. Harry sees her sneak a fingertip full of icing from the very bottom edge of the cake, but he doesn’t call her out on it. 

“Oh, god,” Louis laughs, deflating like just the idea exhausts him. It makes Harry smile again, more to himself. “Maybe one day, love. Two is plenty for now.” 

Genevieve sucks the icing off her finger and looks up to the ceiling, bending her body backwards until she can see her dad upside down. “Jack’s the only baby. I’m forty now.” 

“So sorry, I forgot,” Louis says, gently flicking her on the nose which elicits a giggle before she goes back to staring at her cake. To Harry, he adds, “This is Jack, by the way,” hand still rubbing the baby’s back. “And this monster is Genevieve.” 

Harry notices Louis doesn’t introduce himself, and realizes he should probably admit that none of this is new information. “I know, actually,” he says, beginning to fold the sides of the box in. “I’ve seen a few of your videos, on YouTube.” 

Far from being uncomfortable as Harry feared he might be, Louis lights up. “Have you?” he asks, looking surprised. “Do you have kids?” 

“Oh! No,” Harry responds, a bit surprised himself by the question, although it’s a very valid one. “Um, my—goddaughter? Her mum posts loads of videos and links all the ones with Lux in them to me, so one of yours popped up in the sidebar. I do love kids, just don’t have any. Yet, at least, I’d love a couple someday.” 

“You’re great with them,” Louis says easily, giving Genevieve a playful knee to the backside when she tries to sneak another fingerful of icing. Harry flushes happily and breathes out a laugh at Genevieve’s indignant squawk. “Though I was gonna say, you’d be a busy man with kids and revising whatever that is,” Louis says, nodding to his textbook that’s nestled under one of the flaps of the cake box. 

“Law,” Harry tells him, lifting the cardboard to show the book. He busies himself with actually boxing the cake up while he talks, tucking the pieces together around it. “I’m lucky, though, haven’t got any lectures or anything on Thursdays and it’s quite dead in here when it’s not the weekend. Barbara in the back does most of the baking, I get to faff about and do my readings.” 

“Oh yes, very lucky,” Louis says with a tone that tells Harry he doesn’t find being able to revise at work lucky at all. He laughs again, gingerly lifting the cake to wrap the ribbon around all four sides before he sets it down and ties a nice bow in the center. While he’s dragging the ribbon against the edge of a pair of scissors to create a nice spiral finish, Louis says, “Really though mate, thank you so much. The cake looks sick.” 

“It looks _delicious_ ,” Genevieve insists, in a way that actually sounds forlorn, like she’s upset she can’t eat it right now. 

“You’re both very welcome,” Harry says, presenting the cake to Louis with a flourish. To Genevieve, he adds, “I hope you have a lovely birthday, and I’m gonna need you to eat an _extra_ slice for me.” 

“I will, thank you,” Genevieve says, gravitating back to Louis now that her cake is in his possession and no longer in Harry’s. 

“Keep an eye out for her birthday video next week and you might see yourself,” Louis says, grinning more broadly as they make their way to the door. 

“I definitely will,” Harry says. It’s not an empty promise, as he was planning on it before Louis ever came into the shop. “Have a good trip.” 

“Thanks!” Louis and Genevieve say simultaneously. Louis adds a _bye_ onto the end and gives Harry another quick wave before they leave the bakery, passing in front of the sidewalk window on their way out. Harry watches until they’re completely out of sight. 

-

After his lectures on Tuesday, Harry checks his phone to see that Zayn’s finally texted him after nearly three weeks, a single upside down smiley face emoji. Harry doesn’t bother texting back, just pops round to Zayn’s building a few blocks away instead of going to his own student flat on the university campus. 

Zayn doesn’t seem surprised to see him, just grins when he opens the door, “Hey, mate,” and pulls Harry into a long and firm hug. He gives his cheek a kiss, making Harry squirm away from the prickle of his beard and laugh, rubbing his face. 

“Finally decided to speak to me, then?” Harry asks, feigning hurt. He lets himself into Zayn’s space and curls up on the worn sofa in the sitting room, tucking one leg under himself. 

“I lost my phone for a bit,” Zayn says, adding without any remorse, “and then I forgot.” 

“Course you did,” Harry laughs. “What’ve you been up to?” 

Zayn spends some time lazily describing the work he’s doing lately, his first year out of uni. He lets Harry listen to a 10-second long snippet of the latest song he’s been working on, a short enough clip that Harry can hardly pick out a solid melody. It’s obviously in the early stages, but Zayn sings the rest of the chorus for him, showing what it might come to be. “S’not been fun trying to make ends meet by shelving at the bloody Tesco’s, though,” Zayn sighs, still a bit downtrodden he hadn’t received any better job offers, unpaid internships notwithstanding. 

“Gotta pay the bills,” Harry says, patting his shoulder. “Keep the lights on in this mansion.” 

“Swear it gets bigger by the day,” Zayn agrees, looking around at the drab walls as if he’s admiring his kingdom. “Anyway, tell me about yourself, mister fancy fuckin’ solicitor. What’re you doing lately?” 

“You can call me mister fancy fuckin’ solicitor in about a year and a half,” Harry says, mildly pouty; it feels like ages away. His phone pings with a new email notification, and he talks on while he reads the subject line, switching it to vibrate. “Just been revising the past few weeks. Though, actually,” he says, after seeing the email is from YouTube, he deadpans, “I think I’ve fallen in love with a YouTuber, as well.” 

All too accustomed to Harry’s dry humor, Zayn barely reacts. “Have you?” 

“I have,” Harry sighs, opening the email to see if Louis’ uploaded Genevieve’s birthday video yet. He has. “A _dad_ , to boot. I watched one of his videos ‘cos it came up on my page when I was checking Lou and Lux’s stuff, he came into the shop the other day to buy a cake for his daughter’s birthday. She’s a funny kid, and he’s got the sweetest little baby as well, just a tiny thing.” 

“Does he now?” Zayn asks, sounding much more interested that Harry expected. He’s surprised to find Zayn almost grinning, leaning closer and looking at him very intently. 

“I’m not _actually_ in love with him,” Harry says warily, in case that’s behind Zayn’s sudden interest. “He is fit, though. And his kids are adorable.” Zayn just breathes out a little giggle and nods a bit, looking way too amused with himself. “You’re making fun of me,” Harry says flatly. 

“Sorry,” Zayn says, not an ounce of truth behind it. “You know I know him, right?” 

“What?”

“It’s Louis, yeah? He was one of my best mates in secondary school.” 

“Right,” Harry says, somehow embarrassed for no good reason. The first thing he thinks to say is, “He’s got good genes.” 

“Jesus,” Zayn laughs. He leans against Harry’s shoulder and scrolls through his subscriptions email like it’s his own, tapping Louis’ video when he spots it. Once the page opens Harry pauses it before it can play, not keen to have Zayn watching him watch Louis for 12 minutes and 47 seconds. 

“I haven’t got enough battery,” he argues, which is almost true. 21% could probably last him through the video, but why risk it? 

“He’s into blokes as well, f’you wanna have a go,” Zayn says casually, grinning again. 

Harry feels his cheeks heat. “That hadn’t even crossed my mind,” he says, which comes out sounding guilty even though it’s true. There wasn’t even a flicker of real potential in his head, he just genuinely enjoys watching a young, fit dad play with his cute children. 

“Course it hadn’t,” Zayn says, placating. Harry’s cheeks stay warm. “If you do happen to think about it, though… He’d probably go for it, to be honest. You’re proper fit and he hasn’t had a shag in ages, especially not with a lad.” 

“Do you gossip about me like this behind my back?” Harry asks, locking his phone before shoving it back in his pocket. He pointedly does not let himself preen at being called fit by arguably the fittest friend he’s got. 

“Yes,” Zayn says sweetly. 

“Really doubt a dad with his hands that full is gonna want to give it a go with a kid in uni,” Harry laughs. It feels important to try and erase that idea before it really comes to fruition, to not give himself a chance to get hopeful. Knowing that he’s already connected to Louis through Zayn puts him much closer than he was before as a personality in a computer screen that Harry happened to meet. “Not sure I’d want to get involved with two kids as well, either.” 

“M’not talking about like, _dating_ , mate, m’just saying. If you fancy a good shag…” 

“Oh, he’s a _good_ shag, then?” Harry asks, half teasing and half incredulous, raising an eyebrow at Zayn. 

“Last I heard,” Zayn replies with a very telling smile. 

“Christ,” Harry sighs, pulling a face to indicate he’s received just slightly too much information, which makes Zayn laugh. He resists the urge to ask for proper details. 

-

Harry waits until he’s in his flat and plugged into his laptop before he brings up Louis’ last video. It starts with just him in front of the camera, neither of the kids with him, and he gives a rambling introduction; Genevieve and Jack are both sleeping (finally) so he can edit and upload her birthday video (finally). A quick mention in the intro makes Harry smile, Louis quietly speaking to the camera: “So I recorded us _buying_ her cake, but not her actually _seeing_ it for the first time in the shop. Got the big reveal to my mum and all her aunties and uncle Ernie, though, so it’s alright. By the way, she absolutely hates having an uncle that’s younger than her. Can’t wrap her head around it. Anyway! This is gonna be long enough as it is, here we go.” 

The video is adorable, starting with a very sleepy Genevieve rubbing her fists into her eyes and smiling blearily at her dad behind the camera when he reminds her of their plans for the day. After a quick few frames of them eating breakfast and climbing in the car, the shot switches to the bakery’s front doors and Harry’s heart picks up a little. Louis is good about keeping most strangers anonymous in the videos shot out and about—none of Harry’s face appears in the video, but he hears himself speaking to Genevieve in much the same voice he uses with adults, just slower and a bit less lazy with his pronunciation. It’s even cuter than he remembers it being in person, her brief indecision replaced with a determination to get her orange and pink rainbow frosted cake. 

Really, the cake looked ridiculous. It looks even sillier in the video once it’s been cut after a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday, giant pink and orange bands of cake clashing with each other and the softly colored rainbow frosting, but Genevieve’s delighted squeal upon seeing the inside of it makes Harry grin. It’s ridiculous, but she loved it. 

There’s only a few comments when Harry scrolls down after the video’s finished, one from an account with no picture that appears to be one of Genevieve’s grandmothers, which Louis has replied to. Harry’s got his own face as his profile photo, so he reckons Louis’ll be able to recognize him. Hopefully. 

_Glad Genevieve liked her cake, she was a delight. You’ll have to come back for Jack’s 1st birthday, we’ll do up something special for him. X_

-

The bell above the door tinkles cheerily just as Harry’s finished placing a triple chocolate cake in the glass display case. When he looks up to find Louis walking in with Jack strapped to his chest, peeking around curiously, Harry tries to contain his surprise. 

“Good morning,” he says, smiling pleasantly at Louis and much more widely at Jack, who’s facing out toward the world today rather than napping against Louis’ chest. 

“Morning,” Louis smiles back, hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie under Jack’s feet. “No massive textbooks today?” 

“Nah,” Harry laughs, though his books are clustered together in his bag that’s resting on a stool in the back of the bakery. He nods at the cake in the display case, “I was actually doing some baking up until now.” 

The sight of the cake seems to remind Louis of his daughter’s; he becomes expressive for a moment, pulling his hands out of their pocket, “Genevieve _loved_ her cake, mate, thank you again. Did you make hers?” 

“I can only take credit for the fantastic icing design,” Harry says regretfully, shrugging a little. “Barbara did the baking on that one. She taught me everything I know, though, and I like to think I can bake a mean birthday cake.” 

“I’m sure you can,” Louis says with a smile, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet to jostle Jack around. “So! Have you got any tea, by chance?” 

Harry leans his elbows on the counter while he lists off their tea selection and turns to make him a cup once Louis’ chosen, making idle conversation, “No Genevieve today?” 

“She’s in nursery,” Louis says, sighing. “Her grandparents offered to pay, wanted to get her out and socializing a bit before she starts school. I’d just as well have her home with me all day if I’m honest, but she’s only there ’til noon, so… Suppose I can suck it up.” 

Harry finds himself unacceptably charmed, a little soft over how much Louis wants to be with his daughter all day. “Does she like it there?” 

“Oh, she loves it! She’d stay til the place bloody closed if I let her,” he laughs, wandering to the big display case while his tea brews. “Did you make anything else in here?” 

“Did a pan of chocolate chip biscuits this morning, yeah,” Harry says, tapping the case on his side where the biscuits sit. They look very tempting, in his opinion. “Would you like one? I’m willing to make a _personal guarantee_ that you’ll enjoy it.” 

“Are you?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. He pats Jack’s belly like it’s his own and hardly bothers to think about it, just grins and shrugs, “Alright, let’s have it. I’ve already eaten cake all week, might as well go all out.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Harry says, grabbing a bag and opening the display. He chooses the biggest cookie to give Louis, actively fighting the impulse just to offer it to him free of charge. He asks, “Do you two need to be off or would you like to sit a while?” 

Louis looks behind himself at the tables; there’s a uni student on her laptop in the farthest corner, headphones in, and a man napping with his head on the table in the center of the room. “I suppose we could stay a while,” he says eventually, “I don’t fancy going back outside just yet, it’s a bit chilly today.” 

“Go ahead and sit then, I’ll bring you your tea,” Harry insists, handing him the biscuit over the counter on their way to the register. Harry rings him up and politely shoos him away. 

Instead of the to-go cups most people get, Harry pours Louis’ tea into a proper teacup with a saucer and all. He takes the small container of sugar and grabs a pitcher of milk out of the fridge to bring with him. Louis’ gotten Jack out of his carrier by the time Harry sets everything on the table, one arm secure around his tiny waist while he eats bits of the biscuit with his other hand. 

After Louis’ thanked him, Jack lurches forward in a way that sets Harry into motion before he even realizes what’s happened, stopping him from tipping any further with a hand on his chest, “Careful there, love!” 

Louis doesn’t seem terribly concerned. He bounces Jack on his thigh and laughs with his mouth half full, swallowing quickly before saying, “God, sorry. He wants you to hold him, I think. Neediest kid I’ve ever met.” 

“Can I?” Harry asks. Under normal circumstances, he knows it’s likely bad form to handle people’s babies in the workplace, but he doubts Barbara would mind. The sleeping bloke and uni student certainly don’t seem to care. 

“Yeah, of course!” Louis says, wiping the crumbs off on his jeans before lifting Jack under the arms to make it easier for Harry to reach. 

Jack is the smallest baby Harry’s held in ages. He’s incredibly soft and tiny, lighter by far than all of the books Harry carries in a typical day. Once he’s settled in Harry’s arms, bum snug in the crook of his elbow, Jack breaks out in a wet, gummy grin and drools a thin line right onto Harry’s work shirt. He can’t find it in himself to care at all. 

“Aren’t you a sweetheart,” he says. He hears himself talk a bit higher, more gently, not the same way he speaks to Lux. 

“Only ‘cos you’ve got your hair up,” Louis assures him, popping a piece of biscuit into his mouth. “He’s starting to pull now, got quite a grip.” 

“I’m in luck, then, aren’t I?” Harry asks, talking only to Jack. “I think I am. My hair’s getting very long, I bet you’d have yourself a field day in there, wouldn’t you.” Jack breathes out a soft, happy hum, head swaying forward to bump Harry on the chin. Both he and Louis laugh, Harry mostly out of surprise. 

“Sure you don’t wanna quit baking and come be my babysitter? Both my kids seem to like you well enough.” 

Harry looks down at Louis, who’s watching the both of them with a smile that seems fond. Harry feels borderline giddy. “Honestly, mate, don’t tempt me.” 

-

Zayn texts him late in the afternoon the next day, after he’s finished all his lectures for the week. Harry’s been staring at his pile of books, fully aware he should do his reading early and get it out of the way but unable to find the energy to open any of his books. He does have the energy to read Zayn’s text though, which says, _Do you wanna come out tonight ? :) Sal said he’d pop a few of my tracks on and see how people like em._

_Yeah, of course_ , Harry sends back. Any excuse is a good enough one to avoid his readings, and it’s been ages since he’s gone out with Zayn. 

_Wear something abit nice,_ Zayn says. 

Harry asks, _Like?_ but gets no response. Half an hour later Zayn simply texts him the name of the club, a time, and a happy emoji, and then nothing else. 

He ends up arriving slightly late after getting caught up in his closet, wondering what counts as ‘a bit nice’. In the end he settled on his black skinnies and a top he hasn’t gotten a chance to wear yet as it seems a bit too ostentatious for a law lecture: sheer and coral pink with dark blooming roses printed all along the fabric. 

Eventually, he spots Zayn nearly at the end of the bar, only one person between him and the wall. The closer Harry gets, the more suspicious he becomes about who that person is—he feels a little swoop in his belly when he sees Louis turn around and look out at the floor, freshly opened beer in his hand. Zayn sees Harry and waves him over, wearing a faded top under his jean jacket and a gentle smirk that Harry catches before he’s pulled into a hug. 

“Hi, babe,” Zayn says against his ear over the music. 

“Hey,” Harry replies, giving him a look that he hopes can subtly portray several emotions, mostly _Is this why you told me to dress nicely?_ mixed with _I see what you’re doing._ Louis looks pleasantly surprised to see him when Harry turns his way, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. To be polite, Harry hugs him hello as well; he keeps it short and friendly, grinning at him when he pulls back. 

“I didn’t know you knew Zayn!” Louis says in greeting, shuffling closer to the wall to let Harry stand between them. 

“We met my first year in uni,” Harry tells him, already sure he’ll have a sore throat in the morning from how loud he has to speak to be heard over the bass of the music. “I went to this, like, karaoke bar with my mates and he did some cover that I obviously thought was incredible. I was already quite drunk, so I think it seemed extra impressive. Bought him a drink and that was that!” 

“That’s actually really cute,” Louis laughs, looking between the two of them. “Started off singing in karaoke bars and now you’ve got your own songs being played by a DJ, Zayn. Could I get your autograph?” 

Worded like that, it makes Harry realize he’s quite proud of him. “Me first, please,” he says, turning to nudge Zayn with his elbow. 

“Now, boys,” Zayn sighs, placing a drink in Harry’s hands before patting him on the belly. “I’ve got two hands and plenty of time, you’ll each get one. Think I’m gonna go ask Sal when he’s gonna stick ‘em in first though, I don’t wanna be surprised.” 

“I’m your biggest fan!” Louis calls out shrilly when Zayn walks away, loud enough that a few people on the edge of the dance floor turn to look. 

It makes Harry cough out a laugh into his drink, not expecting it at all. “Jesus.” 

Louis just smiles again, setting his bottle down on the bar to hop up onto a stool. From where he’s stood between Louis’ stool and the next one over, Harry feels rather enclosed; the outside of Louis’ thigh presses against his hip, but he decides not to move just yet. 

“I’ve gotta be honest, your taste is way more _eclectic_ than I was expecting,” Louis tells him after a second, gently pinching the sleeve of Harry’s top between his fingers and tugging. It strikes Harry then that this is the first time Louis’ seen him in anything but his bakery uniform. 

Only mildly defensive, he replies, “Zayn told me to dress up a bit.” He decides to put himself fully on display and lifts his foot a little, “Wore my gold glitter boots as well, thought I’d go all out.” 

After an indulgent laugh upon seeing Harry’s shoes, Louis admits, “He told me to dress up, as well, actually.” Harry gives him a quick once-over and notices he’s just wearing jeans and a t-shirt under a sports jacket, only getting as far as raising an eyebrow before Louis continues, “Obviously I didn’t listen. Suppose he wanted us to look nice for his musical debut, as it were.” 

“Suppose so,” Harry agrees, though he’s more suspicious that Zayn planned this as a secret wingman. Or, potentially, to make fun of Harry later. Possibly both. “You look nice, regardless,” he says, which is true even though it’s almost strange to see Louis without one of his children. It’d be easy to forget that he’s a dad, looking at him lounging against the bar with a beer in hand. 

“You put some actual effort in, though,” Louis insists, combing the fingers of his free hand through the very tips of Harry’s hair. It’s a light touch but it’s still enough to send a trail of tingles up his arms. “And you weren’t lying about your hair being long, were you?” 

“I wasn’t,” Harry says, fussing with it now; he shakes his head a little and shoves the longest bits out of his face, feeling how far down it goes now. “I’m thinking of donating it in a bit, maybe another year or so. Chop it all off and start again.” 

“Don’t chop it off!” Louis insists, stroking the tightest curl before pulling his hand back like he hadn’t meant to touch it again in the first place. 

“Well, not _completely_ off,” Harry says, “I’m not looking to buzz it all or anything, just a good, solid cut.” 

“It suits you like this,” Louis tells him. 

Harry sips his drink with a little smile and says, “Thank you, I quite like it,” before looking out into the dim bar, trying to spot Zayn in the crowd. He knows they’re flirting and is helpless to stop it, even though it feels aimless; Harry’s not terribly interested in starting something casual _or_ serious at the minute. Especially not with someone who—if he’s being frank and perhaps a bit rude—comes with quite a lot of baggage, cute as that baggage might be. Still, he hasn’t had a night out in ages and he doesn’t let himself fret too much over it, instead turning to ask, “No kids on the weekend, then?” as if he doesn’t already know from watching the custody arrangement video on Louis’ channel. 

“Nah, they’re with their mum,” Louis says, leaning close so he doesn’t have to shout over the music. “Genevieve would adore your top, by the way,” he adds, smiling broadly when he straightens up again. “And your shoes!” 

“She’s got great taste,” Harry laughs. “Rainbows, flowers and sparkles, is that it?” 

Louis shakes his head fondly and sets his beer on the bar, bending in close again, “You have no idea, mate. I know I keep fucking telling you, but she will _not_ stop talking about that bloody cake. She absolutely loved it, and now she wants to come into your shop all the time for sweets.” 

Harry knows his pride is misplaced since he didn’t even make the cake, but he still feels himself flush happily when Louis pulls back again. “You’re both welcome any time,” he promises, “all three of you! You’re all welcome.” 

“I’m not going to tell her you said that,” Louis says seriously. “We’ve already had too many sweets from there in a week. You’ve not seen us since you weren’t working, I suppose, but it’s been a solid three trips with her in tow.” 

“And another without her,” Harry reminds him, perhaps a bit smugly. He has a brief, mildly hopeful moment where he wonders if Louis kept coming round because Harry wasn’t behind the counter. “I only work Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays,” he says, in case Louis is interested. 

“Explains why I didn’t see you,” Louis says. He finishes the last of his beer in a gulp and turns to set the empty bottle down, pressing his knee into Harry’s side in the process. “We might have to come round once more then, so Gen can say thank you for herself.” 

Harry remembers suddenly, “Oh, not this coming week, though! I’ve got Thursday off for my birthday. Gonna spend it sleeping in and revising,” he says, full of fake enthusiasm. 

“Hey, happy early birthday, then!” Louis says, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “How old’ll you be?” 

“Turning 21,” Harry tells him. 

Louis seems surprised, “Oh, wow. You’re younger than I thought,” he admits. Going on, apparently unbothered, he says, “Legal in America now, though.” 

“The final milestone,” Harry agrees with a smile. 

They both spot Zayn making his way through the crowd, and Louis hops down from the bar stool to stand in front of Harry again as he comes closer. “Finish that drink and I’ll buy you another as a birthday gift,” he grins. 

-

Harry stays far later than he should with a morning shift at the bakery to look forward to the next day, but it’s the kind of fun he hasn’t had in ages thanks to all of his time being eaten up by university. The three of them sit at the bar and chat for over an hour before Zayn’s track finally comes on, which prompts Louis and Harry to jump up out of their seats and force Zayn to the dance floor. Louis spends half the track shouting at whoever’s listening that _This is his song! He’s singing it!_ while pointing frantically at Zayn, who laughs and jabs his fingers into Louis’ ribs at every opportunity to shut him up. Embarrassingly, once Harry’s back to his flat and snug in bed, he realizes that he’s nearly forgotten what it’s like to have proper mates, ones he can talk to about something other than legal method and reasoning. 

-

The hangover Harry’s sporting in the morning is almost enough to make him regret his fun night, thinking back longingly to a mere year ago when he could binge drink, stay up all night and still stay conscious through lectures the next day. 

At work, Barbara tuts over him and demands, “Bend down,” placing a warm hand against his forehead. “Are you poorly?” 

“Overdid it a bit last night,” he admits, wincing when the loud bell in the front chimes, signaling the arrival of a customer. He prepares himself for a chiding like he’d get from his mum, still hunched over from letting Barbara reach his forehead. 

“You scamp!” she exclaims. “There’s paracetamol in my bag, dove, grab a couple. Would you like to work in the back today? Ovens need a cleaning and you could do the baking as well, give _me_ a chance to socialize for once.” 

“That sounds lovely,” Harry says. It’s an honest sentiment, too; he could do with the relative quiet of the kitchen compared to the much busier weekend rush in the front. “What needs to be baked?” 

“I’ll tell you when you need to know,” Barbara says, urging him away with a gentle smack to his bum. 

Harry spends most of the work day tidying up the kitchen, idly re-stacking the rarely used plates and cutlery and polishing the silver of the faucet. He makes a three-tier red velvet cake and two massive pans of biscuits, ‘accidentally dropping’ one that looks particularly delicious and eating it so it doesn’t go to waste. Halfway through his shift he feels less like he’s ready to die, although he has no real work to attend to—instead, he spends the time playing 2048 on his phone and keeping an ear out in case Barbara needs help in the front. 

Just as he’s preparing to ‘drop’ another biscuit just for something to do, his phone buzzes quietly against the counter with a text from Zayn. It’s a string of numbers first, followed by a second message, _Louis told me to give you his # bc he forgot last night_ , with two winking emojis. 

_Cheers .x_ , Harry sends back, cheeks flushing pink at the little thrill that runs through him. He saves Louis’ number before anything else, opening a new message and ignoring the smirking emoji that Zayn sends him in response. 

He decides on a very simple, _Hi, it’s Harry :)_ as an introduction, stopping himself from extrapolating any further. Louis likely remembers him just by name, as it’s been less than twelve hours since they were drunkenly goading Zayn into a three-person waltz. 

Louis starts to reply before Harry’s even had a chance to lock his phone. All he says is _Hey mate!_ at first, but adds after a moment, _I was going to ask for your number myself yesterday but I got a bit drunker than I planned ha ._

_How’s your head doing?_ Harry asks him, leaning more heavily against his elbows at the counter. 

Louis must be holding his phone close by like Harry is, as he responds quite quickly again, _Fucking pounding. I’m too old to mix my liquors_

_I’m sure you’re not too old,_ Harry insists, though he can’t remember Louis mentioning his age in any of his YouTube videos. He can’t be more than 25 or so. 

_Says the spry 20 year old_ Louis replies. 

Harry grins to himself and checks over his shoulder, making sure Barbara isn’t on her way to scold him for texting on the clock—revising is a different matter, she’d argue, but texting’s a bit naughtier. _Nearly 21 :)_ , Harry sends. _I’m feeling pretty ill myself regardless, though. Suppose I’ve gotten used to an early bedtime thanks to uni._

_Same except thanks to a toddler and an infant_ , Louis says, adding an upside down smiley emoji. _It’s weird having alone time and trying to act like a kid again !_

Hoping that he comes across as teasing in text as he feels in reality, Harry says, _Surely Dads aren’t meant to go out at the weekend. Don’t you have nappies to buy?_

 _Need some nappies for meself after a night on the town_ , Louis texts back, and Harry laughs quietly to himself, moving a little deeper into the kitchen. _Nearly had an accident after the Uber dropped you off, mate ._

 _That’s charming_ , Harry sends. 

The worst part is that he actually _is_ charmed. 

-

Sunday’s shift passes uneventfully, and Harry slowly deflates as the day wears on. 

He and Louis texted well into the evening the night before, mostly stupid banter that perhaps turned a bit flirty for a moment or two at a time. Casually but calculated, Harry had mentioned that he finished his shift at 5pm, hoping that Louis would show up since he’d admitted that his weekends usually consist of lazing about watching telly. 

Harry lingers until quarter past, wiping down the tables and sweeping the floors slower than usual. Inside his head, he has a very embarrassing tug of war over several thoughts: _he’s not coming_ and why am I upset about that? and _it’s for the best, anyway_. He feels like a sulky child and decides to pull himself out of it, flipping the sign on the door to _Closed_ and physically shaking his head, almost as if that will rattle the thoughts right out. 

After he’s locked the display cases and taken care of the register, Harry calls back to Barbara, “I’m heading out!” and waits for her shout of acknowledgment before taking off his apron, the last symbolic action of leaving work. He slips on his coat and leaves the door unlocked for Barbara to deal with, as he knows she’s there far longer after closing than anyone else. 

It’s already quite dark at this time of day in January, which leaves Harry a little more unhappy. The big windows of the bakery let in plenty of light, but not enough to stave off the feeling of having no daylight to himself; he goes to work in the dim hours of morning and leaves in the dim hours of evening. Uni is much the same, and sometimes worse, spending hours in windowless lecture halls and emerging into the darkness. 

So maybe it’s the dark or maybe it’s his slightly sour mood, but Harry practically jumps a foot in the air when he feels a hand on his shoulder and someone saying his name in the middle of his walk home. 

His heartbeat hardly slows when he realizes it’s Louis. “Sorry! Sorry, startled you a bit,” he laughs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“You did,” Harry agrees, still a little breathless, one hand over his chest to calm his frantic pulse. “Jesus. How are you?” 

“I’m doing good,” Louis says, perfunctory. “A bit late getting to the shop, it looks like. I was going to come by and have another biscuit but I wanted to get in a nap in before the kids come home, and…” He trails off, shrugging, “Nap turned into about four hours.” 

Harry laughs and looks down at his shoes for a second, smiling to himself. His internal monologue is, if possible, more embarrassing than when he thought Louis wasn’t going to show. “I’ve been there,” he assures him, looking back up to meet Louis’ eyes. “Sad thing is you’ve got no chance of finding as good a biscuit anywhere else in the city. I say that humbly, of course.” 

“Of course,” Louis repeats. “Are you heading home now?” 

“Yeah, I’ve got a flat at the university,” Harry nods. He adds, quite unnecessarily, “No roommate this year.” 

“Sick,” Louis says, lifting his shoulders up til they’re nearly at his ears when a gust of wind blows past. “I can let you get going if you’re busy?” 

Harry has around 40 pages of readings he’s put off the whole weekend, but he still quickly blurts out, “I’m not busy.” Staying up late to finish his coursework is a fair tradeoff, he decides, especially when Louis laughs at the speed of his reaction, gently teasing. 

“Alright, then,” Louis smiles, “do you want to, like… Are you hungry?” 

“I am, actually,” Harry answers, more honestly this time. He’d usually be in his flat by now with an early dinner. 

“I’ve got to pick up the kids at the train station at 8, but we could get some dinner before then,” Louis offers. 

It sounds a bit like a date, which—as he’s been telling himself for the past day—is the last thing Harry is looking for at this point in his life. Still, a date’s just a date, Louis is fit and single, and Harry very much wants to say yes. “As long as you won’t be purchasing biscuits from any other vendors,” he teases. 

Louis sacrifices the warmth of his pocket to hold up his right hand as a promise, “I wouldn’t dare.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed the fic, please feel free to reblog the tumblr post [here](http://zaptains.tumblr.com/post/139845355801/to-know-about-by-gravitycentered-10256-words-part)! come say hi on tumblr as well :)


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